


arch-nemesis of god and all that

by apollothyme, thesilverwitch



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Footy Ficathon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3238043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverwitch/pseuds/thesilverwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you talking to yourself?” a voice asked, making Jerome look up.</p><p>“No,” Jerome said, his brain lying for him on instinct. </p><p>“Because I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of early onset dementia." The carrier of the voice sat on the chair in front of Jerome’s and took out a cup of yogurt and a spoon from his pocket. Of course Robert Lewandowski carried yogurt and a spoon around with him at three in the morning, as if the guy couldn’t get any more enigmatic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	arch-nemesis of god and all that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doubtthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/gifts).



He wished he could say he was drunk the first time it happened. He wished he had the valid, trustworthy and ancient excuse of ‘I couldn’t even hold my head up, how was I supposed to know what I was doing?’. Being drunk wouldn’t actually excuse what had happened, nor would it make the whole thing vanish from existence, but at least it would appease his moral conscience.

Alas, that was not the case.

The first time it happened he was in the campus library at three in the morning with a whole array of books spread in front of him, his laptop open to a two-hundred pages document on electric traction and he had three projects and two exams all needing to be done that week. 

Also, it was Thursday, he had a killer headache, and the last meal he’d eaten was a banana Mario had slipped into his backpack about ten hours ago. 

“Study electronic engineering like I did, dad said. It will be good for you, he said.” Jerome mimicked his father’s voice, dropping it until it was barely above a row rumble in the air. “Yeah, sure. If death by exhaustion is fun, I’m having the time of my fucking life.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” a voice asked, making Jerome look up.

“No,” he said, his brain lying for him on instinct.

“Because I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of early onset dementia." The carrier of the voice sat on the chair in front of Jerome’s and took out a cup of yogurt and a spoon from his pocket. Of course Robert Lewandowski carried yogurt and a spoon around with him at three in the morning, as if the guy couldn’t get any more enigmatic.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have other poor souls to torment?” Jerome asked even though he knew his efforts to displace Lewandowski would prove to be in vain. The guy was worse than a limpet. He did what he wanted to do and when he wanted to do it. Jerome partly envied him, partly thought he was a jackass.

“Stopped by Marco’s room for a late night Mario Kart tournament. Mario was there and he told me you were here, so I figured I’d stop by.” Robert pulled out the tin foil on top of his yogurt and licked the white liquid stuck to it, making a show of it like he did with everything else. Jerome looked away.

“And do what? Annoy me to death?” Jerome picked one of his textbooks at random and propped it up on the table. “In case you can’t tell, I’m kind of busy.”

Robert made a low humming noise as if he was considering what Jerome had said. With the book in front of him and his dignity resting on him not looking up, Jerome couldn’t see what Robert was doing until the man got up, walked around the table and propped himself on it next to Jerome.

“I can tell. I also thought you’d be hungry,” he said, handing his yogurt cup to Jerome, who accepted it with some hesitance in case this turned out to be some kind of evil trap.

Jerome smelled the yogurt before taking a spoonful into his mouth, which made Robert laugh and say, “I’m not trying to poison you, _kretyn_. Who do you think I am?”

Jerome wrinkled his nose at what he was sure was an insult in Polish. “The guy whose nickname is Satan and who seems to take a lot of pleasure in that." 

“Because it’s a fun nickname! It leaves people wondering.”

“Wondering what?” Jerome finished his yogurt and put the cup away. Robert placed one of his hands on Jerome’s shoulder near the collar of his shirt, with his pinky meeting the skin there.

“You know.” Robert shrugged. His hand got closer to Jerome’s neck. “Everything, I guess.”

Jerome waited for him to continue, but Robert was more interested in staring at him. This was before he leaned down and he kissed Jerome on the lips. It was simple caress of skin on skin without any of the hard edges Jerome associated with Robert. 

This would have been the perfect moment for Jerome to push Robert away and tell him to go mess with someone else. Only, he had three projects and two exams that needed to be done by Friday and he needed a break from all of it and Robert was, to put it quite simply, the most attractive person he’d ever met. They weren’t friends. Jerome wasn’t sure if Robert even did friends. But they were acquaintances, the kind that ran in all the same circles and took multiple classes together.

They knew each other well enough, but, more important than all of that, Robert was kissing him and if Jerome was willing to admit it, he wanted to kiss him back.

So no, Jerome didn’t push him away and no, he wasn’t drunk either. Although he did object when Robert pushed his chair away from the table and sat on his lap.

“We’re in the library,” Jerome hissed.

“So? There is no one else here,” Robert replied. Jerome followed his line of sight and saw that indeed, their floor was empty. 

“There are cameras.”

Truthfully, Jerome had no idea if there were cameras or not, but he imagined a university like TU Berlin had the extra cash to spend on a couple of cameras to make sure the kids didn't steal any books or, like them, had sex in a public space.

Robert rolled his eyes at him and sighed. “Fine,” he muttered.

Jerome felt a tiny pang of disappointment when he felt Robert’s weight lifting from his legs, but he got a grip on himself. This wasn’t right anyway. He was being corrupted by Satan himself and being led straight towards hell, or worse, suspension.

He didn’t see it coming when Robert grabbed his hand and made him stand up, nor did he see it coming when Robert led them to the staircase near the elevators.

“There,” Robert said as he took off his polo and pulled open the belt on Jerome’s pants, all with incredible efficiency. “No cameras here.”

The rest, as they say, was history.

 

* * *

 

The second time it happened, he still couldn’t use the excuse that he was drunk. However, he could say that he was tipsy.

Well, he was a bit touched, like Legolas had been in Two Towers. He definitely felt a slight numbness in his fingers, or maybe that was just from the brisk walk outside from his dorm room to the bar.

He had drunk one beer on what was essentially an empty stomach. His dinner had been a small plate of pasta, which, for a university student like him, was nothing but a small appetizer.

Alright, fine, he would admit it. He was stone cold sober.

They were at a bar near campus, dragged by Müller who said celebration after exam season was over was a must and that all those who didn’t come would be on porn sites’ mailing lists for the next six months. Jerome, who had once been in Müller’s radar for saying he thought presenting a project about atom collision through a rap battle was stupid, knew better than to refuse the invitation.

He was sure Robert, being Satan, spawn of evil, archenemy of god and all that, didn’t give a shit what Müller did or didn’t do, but Robert was there nonetheless. He stood by the counter, leaning back against the wooden surface as he watched people around get progressively drunker.

This time, it was Jerome who sought him out.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

Robert turned to him and grinned. “As always. Schürrle bet Marco that he can’t do five vodka shots in a row, so that’s going to be a laugh. Kroos is by the corner talking to someone in Spanish on the phone, which means he must be talking to his boyfriend, which in turn means I’ll be winning fifty euros from Schweinsteiger and last, but not least, you’re here,” he finished.

He gave Jerome a thorough once over and took a step closer to him. There was desire in Robert’s eyes; hunger. He looked as if wanted to devour Jerome whole.

Jerome tried to think of the last person who’d looked at him like that and failed. He considered taking a step back, but he couldn’t do that either.

“I just wanted to say ‘hi’,” he said. It was the truth, but not the whole truth, and they both knew that.

“Wanna go say ‘hi’ somewhere quieter?” Robert asked. One of the corners of his mouth was pulled up as he put a hand on Jerome’s chest.

He really did look like a devil when he was like this. A charming, attractive devil.

“I thought you wanted to see Marco throw up.”

Robert shrugged. “I’m sure someone will record it,” he said. He grabbed Jerome’s hand, the same way he’d done less than two weeks ago, and led them outside.

They walked back to the university campus. They were neither rich nor drunk enough to take a cab.

Robert led them to his dorm room and with a small amount of surprise, as he stepped inside, Jerome realized he’d never been there before. The room was neat, sort of like he expected it to be. It had a desk, a bed, and a large dresser. There was a window in front of the desk with a good view of the park beneath it. 

There were some things in Robert’s room that Jerome didn’t expect, though, like the Star Trek posters on top of the dresser, or the pictures of a smiling family and Robert and some girl on the desk, which — _what?_

“Hey wait,” Jerome said, pushing Robert away from where he was trying to leave a hickey on Jerome’s neck. “Do you have a girlfriend?” 

Robert stared at him like he was crazy. “What? No.”

“Then who is that?” Jerome pointed to the picture on the desk. It looked as if it had been taken one or two years ago. Robert’s hair was longer, kind of shaggy, and his frame looked smaller. The girl next to him was absolutely beautiful, with blue eyes and long, brown hair. They were probably high school sweethearts, still trying to keep it together through long-distance calls and Skype. 

Jerome closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

This couldn’t be happening to him. He didn’t do fuck buddies, or whatever it was he and Robert were doing. He didn’t do meddling in other people’s relationships. And he certainly didn’t do cheating.

“Anna? She’s my best friend,” Jerome noticed the line of Robert’s shoulders straighten.

“Are you two dating or something? Because I don’t do this kind of shit, Lewandowski,” Jerome snapped, his voice as cold as steel.

“Of course we’re not dating. In case you haven’t noticed—" Robert waved his hand between the two of them, as if he was sewing an imaginary line connecting them to one another “—I have different interests.”

Jerome froze. “Oh,” another pause, “so you’re…” he trailed off, feeling too awkward to continue.

“Gay? Yes. I thought me sucking your dick had made that clear,” Robert said, crossing his arms and giving Jerome a flat look.

“Well, I didn’t know! We’re in 2015. Lots of people are bisexual and shit,” he said, not adding that he was bisexual himself. “Also, you haven’t given me any blowjobs.”  Jerome would definitely remember if that had happened.

Robert rolled his eyes and took a step closer. “I was going to before you started with the stupid girlfriend talk. Mind if I finish?” he asked, grinning up at Jerome, who nodded, a bit too dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events.

Robert fell to his knees with skillful ease, pulling down Jerome’s jeans and boxers as he went. When Robert had gotten Jerome’s belt open was a mystery Jerome didn’t linger on for long, since he was a little busy focusing on not coming down Robert’s throat embarrassingly quick.

One of his hands grabbed the wall behind him to steady himself while the other went to Robert’s head. When Jerome accidentally pulled the short thin hairs after Robert sucked the head just like he liked it, Robert moaned around his dick with so much open pleasure Jerome was almost convinced they were in a porno for a second. Then he pulled Robert’s hair again, and Robert made the same broken noise, looking up at Jerome with his striking blue eyes, and Jerome came inside his mouth.

He repaid the favor two minutes later and he made sure to get the same noises out of Robert before he let him come.

The third time it happened was in the middle of that same night after Jerome woke up to go to the bathroom. When he came back to bed, he saw Robert awake and looking at him with his legs spread open. The sheets were pulled around his waist, low enough to show his sharp hipbones. Robert pulled them down lower.

Jerome left two perfect, identical bite marks on Robert’s hips, one on the left and another on the right. Robert scratched Jerome's back until he drew one faint, almost non-existent line of blood.

The fourth time it happened was the morning after. Robert leaned against the tiled wall of his shower as Jerome fucked him, face to face, the two of them so close together there was not an inch of space between them.

That was the first time they fucked and Robert’s feet couldn’t quite touch the ground. He had to be on the tip of his toes, his body strung so tight he could snap at any moment. Jerome didn’t miss how Robert seemed to like that, how his moans were louder and his cheeks were dusted in pink. Robert enjoyed the loss of control, having someone else maneuver him and do what they wanted with him. Jerome enjoyed giving him that.

With a bite to Robert’s neck, Jerome pulled him up even higher on the wall, until Robert had no choice but to cling on to him if he wanted to stay upright.

Robert was the one to come first, without Jerome even touching his dick. It didn’t take long for Jerome to follow him. After they were done, they stayed in the shower until they had used all the hot water. They panted against each other’s lips as they regained their footing, then went out for breakfast together.

Robert got a full English breakfast. Jerome got some oatmeal with fruit.

After the meal, they went to Jerome’s dorm so he could change his clothes. They played Smash Brothers with Mario and Marco in Marco’s room and after the seventh round, all Robert had to do was touch Jerome’s neck for Jerome to get up and say, “I’m kind of tired. I’ll see you guys later.”

Robert didn’t bother to make excuses. He wasn’t the type.

They fucked on Jerome’s bed, with Jerome holding Robert’s wrists down with one hand and jerking him off with the other.

He stopped keeping track of the times they fucked after that.

 

* * *

 

People come and go. It was the nature of life.

Jerome moved out of his dorm room after he ended his second year of university. Mario was the one who found them a cheap apartment near Schloßpark that was still close enough to the university that it didn’t create the temptation to skip more classes than they already did. The heating was shit and the water pressure even worse, but it was an apartment and it was theirs, so they couldn’t ask for more.

Podolski graduated and moved to England, which broke the hearts of about seven hundred people, while Mats and Benni went on the Erasmus program to the south of Italy.

Everybody changed in one way or another. It was as if they were in one of those teen movies where Summer always brought new adventures, new people and different times.

Even Robert changed. He cut his hair about a centimeter shorter than he usually did, decided it looked horrible and then called Jerome to let him know all of this.

“I look like I’m fucking twelve.”

“You better not because I’m not a pedophile,” Jerome replied while he fried some eggs with one hand and held the telephone to his ear with the other.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Robert said and hung up. A minute later, Jerome got a text telling him to be at some random address in twenty minutes wearing as few clothes as possible. 

> > what address is this? im not breaking into some random apartment w/ u for a booty call 

While Jerome waited for Robert’s reply to his text, he went to his closet and searched for the thickest jacket he owned so that he could go with a simple shirt beneath it. 

> **From Satan:** its not a random apartment, its my apartment. im renting it

Jerome picked his dark green parka and a gray beanie. On his way over, he stopped by a supermarket and bought a bottle of rosé wine. If Robert had a new apartment, then they had to celebrate it properly with more than just sex.

He didn’t think about what it meant that Robert hadn’t told him about him getting an apartment since it didn’t matter. Jerome hadn’t told him anything either when he and Mario moved, although he had been tagged various times in Mario’s #movingout #partofgoetze #withmybroboa Instagram photos, which he figured Robert had seen.

This was all fine by Jerome. He had asked Robert, once, if he was fucking anyone else. Robert had shaken his head, serious in a way he rarely was, and asked if he was. Jerome mimicked Robert’s gesture, but still voiced his answer out loud and then watched as Robert got up, a cat-like smile on his face, and plopped himself on Jerome’s lap. “Good,” Robert had muttered and they didn’t say anything else for a while after that.

When he got to Robert’s apartment, he barely got the chance to say, “Hello,” before Robert was on him. The bottle of wine was forgotten, alongside all his clothes in the entryway, and it wasn’t until they were lying on the bed afterward that Jerome got the chance to say, “Nice apartment.”

Robert rolled over to his side and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at Jerome when he rolled his eyes at him. “Yes, and I imagine you took a good look at it while you were fucking me into the mattress.”

“I can see it’s a nice apartment from here, asshole. You’ve got real wood floors and I take it from the fact that it’s on the last floor of a building with no elevator that the rent here is cheap enough for you to keep it on your own,” Jerome said, giving Robert a light shove on the shoulder.

“Those are some great detective skills you’ve got going on there,” Robert said. He moved so he could sit on Jerome, grinning as he lowered himself down until he was close to Jerome’s neck. “Have you considered becoming a German Sherlock Holmes?” he asked, teeth grazing the skin of Jerome’s collarbone, his heavy breath melting against Jerome’s skin.

“I’m not sure you’d make a good Watson,” Jerome replied with eyes closed and his thoughts still blurred and lazy from the sex. It wasn’t until the words were out in the air that he realized how charged they were, flowing with enough electrical current to shock them both into dust.

Robert, on the other hand, was oblivious, or he was just that good at hiding his emotions even while he was naked and sitting on Jerome’s lap. He continued kissing Jerome’s skin. After a couple of seconds, Jerome grabbed his ass and pulled him down and Robert got the hint with a wide grin.

They showered together. That was if you could call the light drizzle of water coming from Robert’s bathroom a shower.

“And I thought the water pressure in my place was bad,” Jerome muttered.

“This is the last floor of the building, alright? And my landlord said he was going to get it fixed.”

“I’m sure he will,” Jerome said with a disbelieving smirk.

Robert frowned and crossed his arms, something Jerome had noticed him do whenever he was annoyed, so Jerome kissed him until he was mellow and content again.

They ate Chinese takeout for dinner, drank the whole bottle of wine, then fucked again and everything was fine.

Two months later, after Summer had long since come and gone, everything changed because of one innocent comment.

Jerome went home for the Winter holidays. He helped his dad in the kitchen and decorated the house with enough tinsel and random Christmas decorations to pretend they were in the North Pole with his brother.

It was his mother who did it when she asked, like mothers everywhere did when their kids were back home for the holidays, if he was dating anyone.

The answer slipped out all on his own. A simple, “Yes,” that he was forced to take back the second after with a sheepish, “Actually, no, sorry.”

His mother raised an eyebrow at him. “Which one is it? Yes or no? Because you don’t look very sure of either.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Jerome said, this time with more certainty.

His mother nodded, letting a silence fall between them while they continued to watch television. When a commercial break came on, about two minutes later, she turned to him. “Are you doing anything else then? I know these days you don’t have to be in a relationship to have s--”

“Mom!” Jerome exclaimed, looking at his mother in horror. This conversation was even worse than when his dad had given him and Kevin the sex talk, and that conversation had been awkward beyond belief.

“Is that a yes?”

“That is a ‘that’s none of your business’, thank you very much.”

“That’s definitely a yes,” his mother said, but when Jerome moved to get up, she put a hand on his arm and pulled him back to the couch and the topic wasn’t brought up again until the last day of his holidays home.

“I just want you to be happy, honey,” she told him as she gave him a hug.

“I am happy, mom,” and he was. He was in his dream university and getting a degree in something he loved, despite the workload. He lived with his best friend, he had a ton of other great friends and he even had a--

Fuck buddy. He had a fuck buddy. Not a boyfriend.

“I know, I know,” his mom said, patting his cheek. Jerome wondered how much she knew, if she’d realized the truth and that was why she was letting him off easy.

When he got back to Berlin, the first thing he did was text Robert.

> > we need to talk

He got a text from Robert while he was checking the cabinets to see if Mario had spared any food before he left for Dortmund. He hadn’t.

> **From Satan:** whatssup? 

> \- are you home?

> **From Satan:** yeah. come over. bring wine and/or beer
> 
> **From Satan:** and condoms

He thought about what he wanted to say during the walk from his place to Robert’s. Should he lie or be honest? Robert wouldn’t believe him if he gave the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, but in a way, that was the truth. What they had going on right now wasn’t bad. In fact, it was kind of great.

He and Robert fit in a way they shouldn’t. It was easy to be with him. He didn’t ask for much and he seemed to always know when Jerome wanted him there. He kept him company on lonely nights more often than not and the conversations between them were never forced. Robert always had one plan or another for them to do, the kind of crazy plans Jerome pretended to detest when secretly he loved them. Not to mention, the sex was the best Jerome had ever had no chance for debate there.

Everything was perfect, except for the small, important detail of how they weren’t actually dating and his vacation at home had shown Jerome that was what he truly wanted. He wanted all the comfortable, good things that came with being with Robert, but he also wanted the bad. He wanted to be there when Robert needed him. He wanted to meet his family and to hold him up, to tell him about his fears and aspirations, as ridiculous as that might sound.

And he knew Robert didn’t want that because Robert was the kind of cool guy who didn’t do relationships. He was the kind of guy who scoffed at sickly couples and acted like he never needed anyone. He was the kind of guy who was not interested.

Jerome couldn’t tell him any of that, but he could tell him something close to it. He would say they were looking for different things in life. That his priorities had changed. That they could still be friends if Robert wanted to, but for now they had to go their own separate ways.

He took a deep breath before he knocked on the front door of Robert’s building, then another couple when he got to Robert’s floor. How Robert made it up and down those stairs every day without wishing for early death was a mystery. Before he knocked on the door, Jerome fixed his coat and his beanie and gripped his wine bottle a fraction tighter.

When Robert answered the door, a few moments later, he was only wearing a pair of black boxers that hid nothing and a large grin. “You brought the wine,” he said.

“No condoms though,” Jerome said with what he opened was a casual, disinterested shrug. He took another heavy breath, pulled the air in through his nose and felt the words he needed to say rumble in his throat. He opened his mouth. 

“Okay. We can do that,” Robert said before Jerome could speak and there it was. That look he’d given Jerome the second time they had sex. That look he still gave Jerome all the time.

It was hunger and desire and possession all rolled into one and to have it directed at him still gave him chills all the time. Jerome didn’t consider himself ugly or unattractive by any means, but Robert… Robert was something else entirely and to have him give him that look was hypnotizing.

The bottle of wine fell on the couch. Jerome’s jacket and beanie were left on the floor by the bedroom door, his shirt and pants by the bed and his underwear was lost somewhere in the sheets.

Just this one time, he thought as he pushed Robert onto the bed.

Just this last time, he whispered to himself as he fucked Robert, their bodies pressed together, Robert’s back pushing against his chest. 

Just one more time, he wished as he left a hickey on Robert’s neck that would stay there for the next few days.

He helped Robert clean up in the shower and then they fucked again because Robert wanted it and Jerome was a terrible person.

He didn’t bring up the subject of why he was there again and when Robert asked, hours later while they were out for dinner at a cheap pizza place, he said, “Just wanted to see you.”

Robert stared at him, but eventually he shrugged it off with a simple, “Okay.”

When Jerome left the next morning, full of shame and self-hate, he told himself it wouldn’t happen again. The next time he talked to Robert he’d call things off. He wasn’t going to keep lying to him or pretending their relationship still meant the same to the both of them.

Except the next time they met was in the library, another all-nighter, but with Robert as the one looking like he was one step from shaving off all his hair and smashing his head against the wall and Jerome the one bringing the yogurt cup.

“Can we—“ Robert tried, and oh, that was a first. Robert never asked for permission, not explicitly anyway. He put hand on Jerome’s arm and paused mid-sentence in search for words. “Can we just—“

He couldn’t finish, but Jerome didn’t need him to. He took Robert’s hand and led them to the staircase. He blew Robert, who pretty much passed out on him afterward, falling on the floor in a boneless heap.

Had this happened a month ago, Jerome would have taken a picture for blackmail purposes. Instead, he grabbed Robert’s stuff, called a cab and took them back to his apartment. Robert would be mad at him when he woke up the next morning, but Jerome had done many all-night study sessions. He knew they were little more than a desperate, useless attempt at making the impossible possible and that a good night’s rest was much better.

And then it kept happening. Jerome tried to put some space between them, but it helped little to nothing at all when they shared all the same friends. Every time they met, one of them would say something, give the other a look or touch them somewhere, and they’d be running off to be together the first chance they got.

It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t right.

Jerome told himself he was waiting for the right moment to do it, but the truth was there was never a right moment to break up with someone and instead of settling for a mediocre one, Jerome kept making excuses.

He felt like a coward who couldn’t own up to his own feelings.

The day he finally did it was a sunny one.

It was early march and Winter was finally showing signs of leaving. Robert texted him telling him he should come over. Jerome did.

He didn’t take anything with him and he knew exactly what he had to do. He had written down what he wanted to say and memorized the words until they were imprinted on his brain. Half were true, half were lies. He couldn’t admit to Robert he was in love with him, but he would say he felt a different way and end this, once and for all, so that he could move on and start a new Robert-less life.

He climbed the steps up to Robert’s place two at a time, thinking the energy would help. He knocked on the door before he could psych himself out then inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again.

He waited for Robert to come open the door.

Robert didn’t come.

“Hello?” Jerome asked after knocking again.

“Up here,” he heard someone shout from his left. He turned to look and saw a metal door half-open, with a large physics textbook acting as a weight to keep it in place. “On the roof.”

Jerome was still feeling determined until he took the first steps onto the roof and saw the view of the park, the river, and the city spread beneath them. Then he was just amazed.

“I know, right?” Robert said. He was sitting on an old swinging bench with peeling white paint and questionable-looking floral cushions. “I asked my landlord for the key. He said I could use it as long as I didn’t bring people here.”

Momentarily distracted by the amazing view, Jerome raised a judgmental eyebrow at Robert, who laughed. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Also, I think he meant like hordes of people for a party.”

Robert patted the empty seat next to him and Jerome stared at the space. Being in close proximity to Robert was never a good idea when he wanted to get something done, but at the same time, it felt weird doing this while he stood up and Robert sat down.

“I need to talk to you,” Jerome said. He tried to put as much distance as he could between him and Robert, which meant half of him was on the bench and the other half was hanging in the air.

“Is this thing you need to talk about the reason why you’ve been acting weird for the past couple of weeks,” Robert sat sideways on the swing, stretching his legs so that his feet were on Jerome’s lap.

Jerome wanted to push them off, but Robert’s comment had taken him off guard, the same way everything about Robert had taken him off guard. It took him a moment to regroup.

“Yes," Jerome took a deep breath, "I think we should break up. I really like you, but this is not what I’m looking for,” he said. It was rushed and nothing like the speech he’d practiced on his mirror countless times, but it did the job.

Robert took his feet off Jerome’s lap.

“What are you looking for then?” Even though Jerome didn’t turn to look, he could still picture how Robert looked. He’d try for a neutral expression, something that shouted ‘casually not bothered’, but his eyes would be sharp, his mouth set to a thin line. He was never good at hiding his emotions when he was angry.

“A serious relationship. I can’t do this— this fuck buddy thing anymore.”

“Oh, is that all then?” Robert’s feet came back to his lap, his voice devoid of any hard edges. “You could have just said so ages ago.”

Jerome stared at Robert’s Star Trek socks from the original series and nodded, before he froze and looked up. “Wait, what?”

“If you want a serious relationship we can do that. I mean, I kind of thought that’s what we were already. You’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”

Jerome shook his head slowly. “No,” he said, hoping it didn’t come off as a question.

“Perfect then,” Robert nodded to himself and he had this smug smirk on his face that only added to Jerome’s confusion.

“Are you sure about this?” he heard how his words sounded, then immediately backtracked. He was befuddled by this turn of events, but he wasn’t about the kick the gifted horse in the mouth. “Not that I’m opposed to it, I just didn’t think you were interested.”

Robert’s smug expression turned into a fond one as he stared at Jerome. He stood up slowly and then sat on Jerome’s lap, his legs spread open so that they could fit comfortably. He wrapped his arms around Jerome’s neck and then kissed him on the mouth.

“I’m sure. It’s not as if we weren’t practically dating already. Not that you noticed that, I imagine. What are we missing to fit the dating criteria?” he asked.

Jerome wondered whether it was possible for him to embarrass himself further and concluded that the odds were rather low. “I’d like to be there for you more often and to meet your parents. Also, call you my boyfriend so I can finally tell Mario the truth. I’m pretty sure everyone knows we have a thing already, but it’d be nice to give it a proper name.”

“Alright, _miłość,_ ” Robert said, kissing Jerome on the lips again. “Flights to Poland are cheaper in the winter, but I think my parents are coming for my graduation this Summer. You’ll meet them then, yeah?”

Jerome nodded. If you’d asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell you if he was dreaming at that moment or if he was awake. Robert’s voice was pitched so low it was like a whisper and Jerome’s bones felt lighter than feather dust.

“Mine are coming for graduation too.”

“That is going to be a fun dinner, a collision of the Lewandowski-Boateng,” Robert said, but he was smiling, genuinely smiling and not smirking or grinning like he usually did, and Jerome had never wanted to kiss him more.

They made out until the need for air overruled all other instincts. When Robert leaned back, the light from the setting sun hit his back and Jerome wished he owned a high-definition camera so he could take a picture.

“You know, the reason why I was waiting up here for you was so I could try riding you on the swingset,” Robert said, ever so casually.

“We’re outside. Your neighbors might see us,” Jerome hissed, but the statement wasn’t worth much when his hands were already slipping beneath Robert’s shirt and pulling it up.

“I know,” Robert grinned.

In life, lots of things changed with the passing of time, but not all of them did. Robert’s constant smugness was one of the latter and Jerome was fine with that, really.


End file.
